To be her ALPHA and OMEGA too.
The work and warfare he begins, he crowns,
Tho' maugre various conflicts, ups and downs.
Thus through the darksome vale she makes her way,
Until the morning dawn of glory's day.
True saving faith magnifying the law, both as a covenant, and a rule. False faith unfruitful and ruining.
ROUD nature may reject this gospel-theme,
PROUD
And curse it as an Antinomian scheme.
Let slander bark, let envy grin and fight,
The curse that is so causeless shall not light,
If they that fain would make by holy force
"Twixt sinners and the law a clean divorce,
And court the Lamb a virgin chaste to wife,
Be charg'd as foes to holiness of life,
Well may they suffer gladly on this score,
Apostles great were so malign'd before.
Do we make void the law through faith? nay, why,
We do it more fulfil and magnify
Than fiery seraphs can with holiest flash;
Avant, vain legalists, unworthy trash.
When as a cov'nant stern the law commands,
Faith puts her Lamb's obedience in its hands:
And when its threats gush out a fiery flood,
Faith stops the current with her victim's blood.
The law can crave no more, yet craves no less,
Than active, passive, perfect righteousness.
Yet here is all, yea more than its demand,
All render'd to it by a divine hand,
Mankind is bound law-service still to pay,
Yea, angel-kind is also bound t'obey.
It may by human and angelic blaze
Have honour, but in finite partial ways.
These natures have its lustre once defac'd,
"Twill be by part of both for aye disgrac'd.
Yet, had they all obsequious stood and true,
They'd given the law no more than homage due.
But faith giv'st honour yet more great more odd,
The high, the humble service of its God.
Again to view the holy law's command,
As lodged in a Mediator's hand;
Faith gives it honour, as a rule of life,
And makes the bride the Lamb's obedient wife.
Due homage to the law those never did,
To whom th' obedience pure of faith is hid.
Faith works by love, and purifies the heart,
And truth advances in the inward part ;
On carnal hearts impresses divine stamps,
And fully'd lives inverts to shining lamps.
From Abram's seed, that are most strong in faith,
The law most honour, God most glory hath
But due respect to neither can be found,
Where unbelief ne'er got a mortal wound,
To still the virtue-vaunter's empty sound.
Good works he boasts, a path he never trod,
Who is not yet the workmanship of God,*
In Jesus thereunto created new ?
Nois'd works that spring not hence are but a shew.
True faith, that's of a noble divine race,
Is still a holy, sanctifying grace;
And greater honour to the law does share,
Than boasters all that breathe the vital air.
E'en heathen morals vastly may out-shine
The works that flow not from a faith divine.
Pretensions high to faith a number have,
But ah! it is a faith that cannot save:
"We trust, say they, in Christ, we hope in God;" Nor blush to blaze their rotten faith abroad,
Nor try the trust of which they make a shew,
If of a saving or a damning hue.
They own their sins are ill: true, but 'tis sad
They never thought their faith and hope were bad.
How evident's their home bred natʼral blaze,.
Who dream they have believ'd well all their days;
Yet never felt their unbelief, nor knew
The need of pow'r their natures to renew?
Blind souls that boast of faith, yet live in sin,
May hence conclude their faith is to begin;
Or know they shall, by such an airy faith,
Believe themselves to everlasting wrath.
Faith that not leads to good, nor keeps from ill,
Will never lead to heav'n, nor keep from hell.
The body without breath is dead; no less
Is faith without the works of holiness.
How rare is saving faith, when earth is cramm'd
With such as will believe and yet be damn'd:
Believe the gospel, yet with dread and awe
Have never truly first believ'd the law?
That matters shall be well, they hope too soon
Who never yet have seen they were undone.
Can of salvation their belief be true,
Who never yet believ'd damnation due ?
Can these of endless life have solid faith,
Who never fear'd law-threats of endless death?
Nay, fail'd they han't yet to the healing shore,
Who never felt their sinful, woeful sore.
Imaginary faith is but a blind,
That bears no fruit but of a deadly kind;
Nor can from such a wild unwholesome root
The least production rise of living fruit.
But saving faith can such an offspring breed,
Her native product is a holy seed.
The fairest issues of the vital breath
Spring from the fertile womb of heav'n-born faith;
Yet boasts she nothing of her own,
but brings
Auxiliaries from the King of kings,
Who graves his royal law in rocky hearts,
And gracious aid in soft'ning show'rs imparts:
This gives prolific virtue to the faith,
Inspir'd at first by his almighty breath.
Hence, fetching all her succours from abroad,
She still employs this mighty pow'r of God.
Drain'd clean of native pow'rs and legal aims,
No strength but in and from Jehovah claims.
And thus her service to the law o'ertops
The tow'ring zeal of Pharisaic fops.
The believer only, being married to Christ, is justified and sanctified; and the more gospel freedom from the law as a covenant, the more holy conformity to it as a rule.
THUS doth the husband by his Father's will
For her, as 'tis a covenant; and then
In her, as 'tis a rule of life to men.
First all law-debt he most completely pays,
Then of law-duties all the charge defrays.
Does first assume her guilt, and loose her chains,
And then with living water wash her stains;
Her fund restore, and then her form repair,
And make his filthy bride a beauty fair;
His perfect righteousness most freely grant,
And then his holy image deep implant;
Into her heart his precious seed indrop,
Which in his time will yield a glorious crop.
But by alternate turns his plants he brings
Through robbing winters and repairing springs.
Hence, pining oft, they suffer sad decays
By dint of shady nights and stormy days.
But blest with sap, and influence from above,
They live and grow anew in faith and love;
Until transplanted to the higher soil,
Where furies tread no more, nor foxes spoil.
While Christ the living root remains on high,
Tho noble plant of grace can never die ;
Nature decays, and so will all the fruit
That merely rises on a mortal root.
Their works, however splendid, are but dead,
That from a living fountain don't proceed;
Their fairest fruit is but a garnish'd shrine,
That are not grafted in the glorious vine.
Devoutest hypocrites are rank'd in rolls
Of painted puppets, not of living souls.
No offspring but of Christ's fair bride is good,
This happy marriage has a holy brood.
Let sinners learn this mystery to read,
We bear to glorious Christ no precious seed,
'Till though the law, we to the law be dead.*
No true obedience to the law, but forc'd,
Can any yield 'till from the law divorc'd.
Nor to it, as a rule, is homage giv'n,
Till from it as a cov'nant, men be driv'n.
Yea more, till once they this divorce attain,
Divorce from sin they but attempt in vain ;
The cursed yoke of sin they basely draw,
'Till once unyoked from the cursing law.
Sin's full dominion keeps its native place,
While men are under law, not under grace. †
* Gal, ii. 19. Rom. vi. 14.
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